


a sweet moment

by edsketchbook



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Lucifer is only mentioned, M/M, god zack give us a name for garcia its so awkward to write like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 14:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14022531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edsketchbook/pseuds/edsketchbook
Summary: Richard gets home after the eventful night of Chapter 4.





	a sweet moment

**Author's Note:**

> not edited at all so sorry for mistakes my dudes  
> there is a need for sparcia in the world

When he gets home, his home this time, his hands tremble when he tries to unlock the door. It's in part the pain, getting second degree burns on a place as sensitive as your stomach isn't fun, definitely worse in the places where darker residues remain; charred and bloody fabric, probably.

  
It's in part the adrenalin, side effect of fighting a big, angry and -powerful- fire spirit; maybe fear, for his students, for himself, for Lucifer, the greater good, the future of everything he knows; the anxiety of what he's going to say when he's finally inside the house, 'hey I got badly burnt fighting a big ol' hunk of hot metal, kiss it better?', which in this context is going to earn him his last scolding for the night. Unwanted, but mighty deserved, everything considered.

  
He stops fighting with the lock, just resting his head against the door and breathing, regardless of how odd it would look for a straggler to see a middle-school teacher just standing in front of a house with his hand on the knob in the middle of the night. Lucifer seems like he's all out of things to say for the time being, letting Rick bask in his own misery like he's prone to do and he's somewhat thankful for a single moment of pained silence in this eventful night. Pained being keyword, there being an absolute fuckload of it and a severe risk for infection Rick did not want to take.

  
He steeled his grip, grit his teeth and tried to channel all the carefully practiced self-control he's honed over the years. He's not good at it, but at least he's good enough to will his hand to stop and jerkily shove the key through the lock to finally get inside his house.

  
Greeting him is Garcia, already awake and sitting up in the dark bed, rubbing his eyes and clearly struggling to focus on him. To say he didn't jump a little a the sight would a be an enormous lie. He doesn't know what to say, for once, he doesn't even have to give an explanation because Garcia already knew where he was going, but Rick feels like if he opens his mouth every single one of tonight's mishaps and insecurities are going to cascade out of his mouth without a care.

  
Luckily, he doesn't have to.

  
“Lookin' a little creepy, standing in the doorway like that.” Garcias voice is rough, laced with sleep but Rick finds it so irresistibly familiar and safe, that he can't help but relax.

  
“I live for the drama, you know that.” Rick says, leaning against the frame. A smile threatens to escape him and despite the pain it's not entirely a fake one.

  
“Of course you do-“ Garcia stops in the middle of his sentence, and Rick can see the exact moment where his sight gets used to the dark enough to see the burnt mess of his chest and stomach.

  
He throws the covers off with more force than was probably necessary while Rick finally steps inside the house and closes the door behind him, effectively closing them off from the world outside.

  
He carefully steps towards the bed, not wanting to aggravate his wounds or make any more sounds of discomfort. Garcia moves over from his side of the bed, a weird combination of worry and anger in his expression and somehow Rick feels even guiltier than before. He doesn't reject Garcia’s strong hand on his helping him sit down on the bed or the arm across his back as he normally would.

  
“Gonna take this off,” Garcia says. There’s something strained in the quality of his voice, and Rick suspects it might be a restrained desire to ask about everything, “Then a cool shower,” He kneels in front of him, inspecting the wound and Garcia's expression visibly hardens, “Then I treat you and we sleep.”

  
“No interrogation tonight?” Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut, for fucks sake.

  
There's a clear interest on Garcia’s part, Rick might not be the best at reading people but its clear enough in the intense stare that he's been in the receiving end of for a while now. A hand squeezes his knee, and he realizes he might not have hidden his nervousness as well as he'd thought.

  
“Not right now,” Garcia says, “there's school tomorrow and we need sleep.”

  
Garcia finally looks up and meets his eyes, and Rick feels like he's staring right through his soul. There's an unspoken agreement that Garcia is going to ask him eventually, and Rick doesn't know what he'll answer yet or if he will answer at all but Garcia will ask.

  
He gets up, probably ready to get the medkit and Rick doesn't know if he's that transparent, if his hands falling from their grip on the other man's shoulders gave away how he was feeling, if it was how his eyes followed the others figure as he rose or if Garcia just knew him that well, but as soon as he was at his full height, Rick felt the same fingers that were preciously clenched in anger when he first noticed the burns, the same ones that squeezed his thighs to reassure him and break him out of his thoughts, those same hands were gently steering his head to look up.

  
He closed his eyes even before he knew exactly what was going to happen, but the soft brush of lips didn't startle him at all. It makes him finally, fully relax, and he releases something akin to a full body sigh. There is a big, rough hand caressing his cheek, stubble rubbing a little against him and the kiss is more insistent, but relatively chaste. It's reassurance, on both of their sides.

  
It doesn’t last long enough as far as Rick is concerned, but there really are more pressing matters at the moment than his emotions, and the pain from the burn is insistent in the back of his mind.

“I'll be right back.” One more stroke of a calloused thumb against his cheekbone and Garcia walks away.

  
There isn't much else Rick can do, just nod and watch him go to the next room over to the kitchen, hearing the sound of opening cupboards and heavy steps.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> god im sleep deprived and I have exams tomorrow, but I hope you like this  
> I havent written anything in a while.  
> if it feels unfinished its bcs it kinda is


End file.
